


lamentable

by fatallylovely



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: POV First Person, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatallylovely/pseuds/fatallylovely
Summary: if this is truly the closest you've gotten to love; it must be a truly cruel emotion





	

My body subtle shakes. It makes the rope holding tight around my hands feel even tighter. It feels as though my entire body is being restricted from moving. I start to feel claustrophobic. I contort my body left and right in a futile attempt to escape my restraints. It doesn’t work. I know it won’t. I repeat the violent thrashing. I don’t even stop once my head smacks harshly against the cold metal of the pole. My left ear is ringing and I feel my anxiety boil underneath my skin. I writhe more quickly, with less thought. I clout my head on the pole once again. My head throbs with pain and I momentarily calm down. My excruciating pseudo-serenity is halted with the nauseating anticipation that comes with the sound of the basement door opening, and the loud footsteps that follow it.

I’m weak from my panic-induced state, _(maybe induced just as well by sleep deprivation; and hunger, for more than just freedom and food)_.

My heart thumps hard against my chest, in anxiety, and possibly anticipation of a different kind than what I experienced the first night I woke up here. He towered above me, staring, with a smile holding only narcissistic pleasure. I couldn’t help but fidget _(trying to distract myself from the ache growing between my legs, and in the back of my mind)_. 

He finally crouches down, his smile falling into a smirk. He’s so close to me, the hunting knife I’ve become acquainted with is lazily held in his right hand, ghosting along my thigh as he adjusts himself, his free hand clasps around my right thigh, and I flinch as his other hand moves towards me, but it's only to reach around and cut my restraints. “Liebling,” I’m pushed against the cold floor. He says something else, I don’t listen.

His free hand is wrapped painfully tight around both my wrists. His knee slides between my legs, and I can feel him shaking with what I can only presume is the want he’s been repressing for, what all I know, the past minute, but possibly the whole day _(i can only hope he’s thought about me that much)_ It explains why he was so unnaturally quiet. 

He’s staring at me with a ravenous look that I’ve only seen a glimpse of before. “You look upset? Yet you seem to be enjoying this.” The knife has gone from sliding, teasingly almost, along my bare stomach, making me twitch and shiver _(i rub myself against his leg, i can’t help it anymore)_ , to viciously plunging into my side. It hurts _(why is it making me want him even more, why am I getting off to this abuse)_. I can only manage to let out a delayed, shaky exhale, followed by a cough. It only makes the fact that he takes his time sliding the knife out, twisting it so subtly, even more excruciating

Strade sits up, properly straddling me now, and drops his knife. A more strong-willed person may take the risk of reaching for it, but I knew better. He rapidly unzips his pants, and my yearning-fueled stare soon dissipates into nothing more than emptiness. I’m caught up in my own thoughts so much that I barely remember than I’m currently bleeding; It’s takes the sudden feeling of his nails digging into my thighs as he adjusts me to even make me realize that my underwear has been removed.

He thrusts into me without any concern. It’s painful, but I can only lay there, my gaze never wandering from his face, trying to ignore how the feeling is also somewhat pleasurable _(i’m disgusting; i want this; why do i want this)_

I feel a sudden wave of exhaustion

My eyelids are heavy

They involuntarily close. I try to open them, but they just won’t.

The sudden lack of air, caused by his hands squeezing my throat, is enough to get me to open my eyes for more than a couple seconds, but even then, I can’t stop myself from falling back into the reassuring darkness of sleep

My arms are limp, trying to move them feels like trying to pick up a dumbbell far too heavy

_(i wanted this)_

I don’t try to move or keep my eyes open anymore; I can’t

I can no longer tell if he stopped or if I lost feeling

I can’t tell  
I don’t want to know  
I just want this quiet  
This safety of sleep

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not sure how I feel about this, considering I don't often write fanfiction, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed it


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